My left arm was revered and largely unadorned, however, my right arm seemed to be continually in the grasp of a fuckee or friend.I had been invited to...the head coach's house to dinner one weekend when the blues and homesickness for Sweethome valley had struck me hard. Even the prospect of the head cheerleader fucking me into promised coma failed to rally me. I was homesick and I had to ride it out.The dinner was swell and I forgot my mental anguish long enough to feed but as soon as it was. From the edge ofthe group, though, came a single "I'll go." It was Chris."Well!" one of the bullies of the group said. "It looks like the little girlis kind of brave after all."As Chris walked toward the house, things grew quiet, and the sound of her newpatent leather shoes clicking across the blacktop was all that was heard."Bet he chickens out!" someone in the group said. "Bet she eats him!" someoneelse said.Chris felt himself trembling just a bit as she walked up the steps to Mrs.Canfield's. More

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